Porter
by perfectlyinsanex
Summary: Uploaded for the second time. Quinn Fabray has moved to New York, hoping to restart her life. Working in a top-notch hotel brings in the money, but it also brings in the rich snobs. But maybe not all the rich snobs are bad...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi, guys! So, if you remember the intense E! Online poll, we had to enter that CAPTCHA thingy and I kept getting 'porter' so I was like, "Huh, Quinn's gonna be a porter and Rachel's gonna be some Hollywood bitch." BAM. Here we go.

Rated M for some sexxxxxxxy times. Enjoy.

PS: Follow me on Twitter (prftlyinsanex) and harass me. Lovingly harass, of course.

**EDIT: UPLOADING THIS AGAIN SINCE IT WAS DELETED. I apologize to those who had favorited this. If you don't mind taking a couple seconds to do so again and drop a review, I would be forever grateful.**

* * *

Sometimes, Quinn Fabray hated her job. Sometimes, she loved it. It was a love/hate relationship, much like Ronnie and Sammi on _Jersey Shore._

Not that Quinn watches that hideous excuse for a show. She would much rather watch some Buffy or perhaps Seinfeld. The good shows that have a plot that doesn't involve getting drunk and falling over.

Although, Spike has been known to do that…

Quinn watched as yet another fat lady in a fur coat holding a sorry excuse for a dog burst through the doors. She watched as Jake rushed in after her, towing a luggage cart filled to the maximum amount with Juicy Couture luggage. He breathed a sigh of relief, stopping the cart a foot away from the woman who had stomped over to the front desk. He mouthed a "good luck" before giving a two-finger saluting and scurrying off.

The blonde rolled her eyes. Reasons she hated this job: rich bitches who were so full of themselves that they stopped in front of every mirror they saw.

"Quinn!" Amber called from the front desk. Quinn took a deep breath, readying herself. "Would you please show Ms. Parkway to her room?" Amber asked, handing her a silver key with a metal plate dangling from it. The plate was tied to the key with red ribbon. The plate read 1036.

"Of course," Quinn replied politely, grabbing ahold of the luggage cart. The dog's nose twitched before it let out a high-pitched bark.

"Hush, Princess. We'll be going to our room in a second," the woman cooed, her voice taking a baby-like tone.

Quinn forced a smile on her face as she led the way to the elevators. The doorway opened almost instantaneously.

Thank God for seven elevators.

Quinn pushed the cart into the back of the elevator, hitting the button for floor ten. "Visiting Broadway?" she asked politely once the doors had closed.

The older woman turned to the younger one, peering down her nose at her. "Why, yes. Not that it is any concern to you. I'm sure you've never even been there. Someone with _your _income couldn't even afford to sit on the floor."

The dog yapped for a couple seconds in agreement.

Quinn bit her tongue, holding the words she wanted to scream out in her head. Yes, she had been to Broadway. Once, with her parents before they disowned her. Yes, she worked in a hotel. But it happened to be one of the most expensive hotels in a ten-mile radius of Broadway. Therefore, all of the wealthy stayed there and she received good tips on her already high income.

Why hadn't she visited Broadway again, you ask? It brought back bad memories.

She watched the dial creep higher and higher and sighed with relief with it finally hit the ten. "If you would follow me, please," she said, dragging the cart into the hall.

She followed Quinn to the right and they quickly found her room on the left side. "Enjoy your stay," Quinn smiled, taking the luggage off of the cart. It took her longer than she thought and she immediately wished she hadn't bid the woman farewell already.

"Be careful," Ms. Parkway hissed, watching as her prized suitcase was dropped to the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

"I apologize," Quinn said calmly. She finished and pushed the cart outside into the hall. Taking a deep breath, she turned back around. "If you need anything, the number for the front desk is on your menu. Breakfast begins at seven."

"I know," the woman snapped. "I've stayed here before."

"Thank you for returning then. I hope you have a pleasant stay," Quinn smiled, inching back to the door.

"Wait," Ms. Parkway muttered, digging into her purse. Quinn waited patiently. She normally did what she was told. "Here." The older woman thrust a folded bill to the younger one.

Quinn took it silently, pocketing it before thanking her. The blonde grabbed the cart and took off at once. When she was secured in the elevator and slowly making her way down to the lobby, she looked at the bill.

A twenty. She sighed, shaking her head.

Not that she was complaining, because she wasn't. She'd take anything she could get. She just expected a little more for dealing with such a bitch.

Jake pounced upon her as soon as the elevator doors opened. "Glad I warned you?"

"Extremely. It was hard to be polite to that."

"Did you see that dog?"

"I thought it resembled a rat more than a dog."

He laughed. "Very true. At least she tipped me a fifty."

Quinn froze, turning to stare at him. "A fifty? She gave you a fifty for putting her bags on a cart and walking two feet? That's completely idiotic considering she only tipped me a twenty _and _bitched at me." She shook her head. "Ridiculous."

Jake grinned, flashing his white as snow teeth. "Apparently she doesn't swing your way."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Thank God for that."

/

Later than night, Quinn unlocked the door to her apartment, fumbling for the light switch in the dark. White light came to life as she dropped her keys in the bowl on the side table. A streak of gray rushed past her feet.

"Hello to you too, Xander," she muttered.

Yes, she named her cat after a character on Buffy. What of it?

The streak of gray returned, slamming its head repeatedly into her leg, trying to find the perfect spot on her slacks that'll take care of that itch. His tail curled around her leg.

"I guess somebody finished all his food," she murmured, scooping him up and cradling him in her arms. He purred instantly. "Let's get you some good stuff," she cooed, walking into the kitchen.

His food dish was indeed empty. She placed him on the floor and grabbed a can of Fancy Feast, his favorite. He chowed down after sniffing at it.

Quinn sighed and flipped on a couple more lights. She lived in a small apartment, quiet and perfect for her. It was a one-bedroom hideaway, three blocks from the hotel. Decorated in dark blues and grays, it was comforting. Some might call it depressing; she called it home. There was a futon in her living room in case her sister ever visited.

Even though her parents disowned her, her sister didn't care that she was gay.

Splashing water on her face, Quinn quickly got ready for bed. She stared at herself in the mirror.

Was this all her life was going to consist of? Working at a hotel where she was treated as a slave? Living with just a cat for a companion? Running a hand through her chin-length hair, she turned around. Xander came running as she slid into bed, curling up between her legs.

Quinn stared at her ceiling, an idea coming to her head. Maybe Ms. Parkway was so bitter because her husband ran off with a backup dancer on Broadway. And now she was going to get revenge. That was the huge bag Quinn had dropped. It was full of torture devices. Quinn grinned to herself.

Only the mind of a writer.

The scene played out on the dark ceiling. She could only imagine Ms. Parkway stabbing an older gentleman. Over and over and over. A laugh bubbled up her chest as she chased the image away.

Only her.

/

"Quinn, you're early!" Amber exclaimed, looking up from the desk.

The blonde smiled, clutching the bag against her side. "I was hoping you wanted to read something."

Amber grinned. "Another story?"

Quinn grinned sheepishly. "Maybe. It's such a crack fic. And it's really short. But the idea came to me last night and I had my fun with it."

Amber stretched her hand out, eager to read it. "Gimme."

Quinn watched with butterflies in her stomach as Amber's eyes scanned the words. Soon enough, the brunette was laughing out loud.

"Oh, God," she said, clutching her stomach. "That bitch was _insane._ This is wonderful, though. Why are you not a New York Times Bestseller?"

The writer scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Please. Someone important would have to read my work."

Amber feigned hurt. "Are you saying I'm not important?"

Quinn came around the counter and wrapped her arms around her friend. "Of course you are. But you can't get the New York Times to get my stuff on their list."

Amber shrugged. "I would if I could."

The blonde nodded. "I know you would."

"Look, I just want to warn you about something. And since you start in," Amber looked at the time on the computer, "half an hour…"

Quinn looked at her phone. It was indeed 11:30. Night shift was always interesting. Not many people checked in so she got to hang out with Amber behind the desk. Luckily, their boss liked them so he put them on the same shifts.

"What's up?"

Amber sighed. "You were written up for being rude to Ms. Parkway."

Quinn froze. She wasn't rude. She was as polite as can be. "How was I rude?"

"Dropping her luggage, giving her attitude."

A scoff filled the space behind the counter as hands tightened. "Complete and utter bullshit."

Amber was shocked to hear Quinn curse. The younger woman hardly ever swore and when she did, it was because she was livid with rage. "Hey, that's what she claimed. Henry isn't taking her too seriously but he still had to write you up. Just don't worry about it."

Quinn shook her head. Of course she would worry about it. She had never been written up and now she had this huge mark on her because some _bitch _got a little too protective of a suitcase.

"Also, some big Hollywood star is coming in tonight. We need to take all the precautions. Apparently, she's seeing _Rent _on Broadway this weekend."

"Who is it?" Quinn asked, not really caring. That damn Ms. Parkway had gotten her all riled up.

"Rachel Berry."

"Yeah, no clue who that is."

Amber smiled and punched her shoulder lightly. "Well, maybe if you'd get that nose of yours out of the books and glue your eyes to any TV in America, you'd know."

"She's that famous?"

Amber nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. She's in _American Dreams._"

Quinn stared at her with a blank expression.

"It's like _F.R.I.E.N.D.S_, but with singing. One of the most popular shows today. You must live under a rock."

"You've seen my apartment. I don't own a TV."

The brunette shook her head. "Ridiculous."

/

Quinn watched as Amber's fingers danced over the keyboard, words appearing on the screen faster than she could process them. "You're amazing for doing this," she murmured.

A smile tugged at Amber's lips. "I happen to like typing and you need a professional copy. That way, when it actually becomes true, you can wave it around, screaming, "Look! I knew Ms. Parkway was a psycho before all of you!" Besides, I'm bored."

Quinn smiled back and laid her head on her friend's shoulder, watching the words dance to life.

"_The berry is in the basket. I repeat, the berry is in the basket."_ The walkie-talkie in front of them squawked to life, making both of them jump.

Amber grabbed it quickly. "You realized you are a complete loser, right Sam?"

"_You love me."_

She sighed. "You know I do, babe."

"_Love you, too, hun. Send Quinn out here to fetch this princess."_

Quinn rolled her eyes and held Amber's finger over the button. "Do I have to?"

"_Yes."_

She sighed and turned to the girl next to her. "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck?"

"Say it like you mean it."

"Good luck!" Amber said again, enthusiasm oozing out of her words.

"Thanks," Quinn drawled, getting off her chair and preparing herself. Polite, be polite. Except if she's a Ms. Parkway all over again. Then be a bitch. A hardcore bitch who takes no shit.

She walked outside into the chilly night to see Sam dragging suitcase after suitcase out of the back of a limo. A lopsided grin reached his face when he saw her.

A man in a tuxedo rushed past her before stopping in front of the back passenger door. Ah, a driver. Quinn had such respect for them. Sitting in a cramped car with someone demanding you take them here or there. The door popped open and Quinn held her breath as she waited.

A Stiletto wrapped foot touched the ground before its twin joined it. A tanned calf emerged next, clenched as it tried to hold the weight. Soon enough, naked thighs came out followed by a lithe body. The purple dress—could it even be considered a dress? It barely covered her vagina—hugged the body, rippling over her stomach and stretching over her hips. A hand reached out, followed by a bare arm, until it clenched the door. An upper body appeared, cleavage popping out. From the round breasts, a neck rose to a pointed collarbone, defined and tan.

And then her face. Flowing, dark brown hair. Defined cheekbones, a prominent nose, and warm, dark chocolate eyes. Her lips tugged as a smile covered her face.

That was why Quinn Fabray was a lesbian.

"Ms. Berry," she finally managed to utter, her heart beating a mile a minute.

The actress looked up, curiosity in her eyes.

Quinn swallowed loudly. "My name's Quinn. If you'd follow me, we can get you checked in."

A flash bulb went off, momentarily blinding the blonde. She heard Rachel mutter something along the lines of "fucking bastards."

"Rachel! Rachel! Are the rumors of you and Finn Hudson true?" the guy yelled, snapping another dozen pictures.

"I don't know," Rachel said sarcastically. "Did you see me fucking him?"

Quinn's mouth dropped open in shock.

The photographer paused for a beat. "Are you confirming it's true?"

"I'm not sure. I don't follow. What's being confirmed?" Quinn caught the smirk on Rachel's face as she crossed her arms.

"That you and your costar, Finn Hudson, are in a relationship?"

"I don't like commitment."

"So you two are sleeping together?"

Rachel shrugged. "Sometimes."

Quinn shook her head slightly. Leaning over, she whispered in Rachel's ear. "I would suggest bidding this guy goodbye and checking in before he spins your words around too much."

Rachel's eyes flashed before she nodded. She led the way in, swaying her hips. Quinn followed, blatantly staring. Sam brought up the rear, pushing the heavy cart.

As soon as Quinn stepped in the door, Rachel stopped and turned on her. "How much do I owe you?"

"Excuse me?" Confusion formed over Quinn's face.

"Well, apparently, you're my manager now and I pay him quite a bit so I'm assuming you have a roundabout figure in your head."

"I don't—"

"You told me how to handle the paparazzi like my manager would. Which is funny, considering I've been in show business for years while you work… here." Disgust filled her voice.

Quinn's hands formed into fists. "I apologize," she said through gritted teeth. "I was only looking out for your well-being."

"My well-being doesn't have to be looked out for by some… porter," the actress scoffed.

Quinn chose to ignore that. She didn't need to be written up again. Instead, she walked to the front desk, shaking her head slightly at Amber. Amber's brow wrinkled in confusion before Rachel stormed up.

"I'd like to speak to a manager."

"I'm sorry, but they went home earlier," Amber politely said. "I can take a note and call them as soon as I can. What is this concerning?"

Rachel gestured to Quinn. "This incompetent—"

"Excuse me?" Quinn was shocked that the words even came out of her mouth. She was never this forward. She usually allowed people to say whatever they wanted about her.

"Quinn," Amber muttered, panic filling her eyes.

"You heard me," Rachel hissed. "You are incompetent, rude, a horrendous worker."

"I'm sorry that you're some egocentric actress who only cares for herself. Clearly, you don't realize the problems with you running your mouth. Not only are you hurting yourself, but you're also hurting Finn Hudson in the process. And if that isn't the most selfish thing I've ever heard, I don't know what is." Quinn's hands were shaking by this point. She turned to Amber. "I'm going on break."

Amber could only stare in wonder at this new Quinn. Quinn never stood up for herself. Especially not to a Hollywood A-lister.

Once in the break room, Quinn calmed down. She grabbed a bottle of water and took some sips. Soon enough, her hands stopped trembling.

"You okay?"

She looked up to see Sam poking his head through the door. She smiled slightly. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm going to get fired but…"

"It was a great way to go out," Sam grinned.

"I'll be famous. First person to insult Rachel Berry to her face." A grin filled Quinn's face.

Sam laughed, waving her over to him. "C'mon. Amber wants you back up front."

Quinn prayed the actress was in her room and followed him.

"Jesus Christ, Quinn. What the hell was that?" Amber demanded, storming over to them.

The blonde looked down at her feet, avoiding her friend's eyes. "She was being insulting."

"And you know what? She's allowed to insult us if she's paying $1,300 a night." Amber sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I understand you're upset but just ignore the insults."

Quinn nodded and touched Amber's arm. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I talked her out of the anger." A button beeped on her computer as a message came up. "Room 1204 needs more towels. Will you, Quinn?"

Quinn was about to argue that that was what maids were for, but after her anger management issues earlier, she only nodded.

The elevator ride was impossibly long. Her thoughts drifted to her sister, to Rachel, to Sam and Amber's perfect relationship, to her lonely life.

Was she ever going to find someone? And wasn't that the reason she moved out to New York, anyway? The chances of meeting some fantastic woman out here was far better than the chances in little, old Lima, Ohio.

But so far, no luck

The ding made her jump. She quickly found 1204 and knocked on the door. "I have the towels you asked for," she explained.

The door swung open and Quinn groaned. Rachel narrowed her eyes. "You."

"Yep. Here you go." Quinn tried to shove the towels into Rachel's hands but the brunette just stared at them.

"Why'd they send you?"

"Amber hates me. Or God. Probably both."

Rachel laughed. "Clearly. You can set the towels in the bathroom."

Quinn rolled her eyes. Of course the spoiled actress couldn't carry her own towels. That's just ridiculous to even think she could. Luckily, she knew the rooms so well, she could get out of there in seconds.

The door shut behind her. She deposited the towels and half-ran back into the sitting area. "Have a good—"

"You don't know who I am, do you?" the brunette asked, a smile tugging at her face.

Quinn paused. "To be honest, no."

"You've never seen _American Dreams_?"

"I don't own a TV," Quinn admitted.

"Excuse me?" Rachel's face morphed into complete and utter shock.

The blonde sighed. "I'm a writer. I don't own a TV so I don't copy other ideas. I've watched plenty of TV before I moved out here. Which is why I own the Buffy complete DVD box-set."

"I love Buffy."

Quinn blinked. "You do?"

"Don't look so shocked. I wish that another feministic show would come around. Buffy is the all-American girl who is so strong and such a great leader. We need another icon like that for this generation. We grew up on Buffy. What are they going to grow up on?"

"Clearly, you. I heard your show is the most popular program on TV."

Rachel blanched. "I don't want them to grow up on me. My character isn't that great."

Quinn shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I—"

"… don't own a TV, you told me."

Rachel's smile made Quinn smile. Maybe she wasn't such a bitch after all. "It's not my fault I don't want to turn into a mindless zombie."

"That's like saying you don't like apple pie and baseball. Watching television is an American pastime."

Quinn stayed quiet, shifting her eyes to the wall.

"Oh, my God! You don't like apple pie?" Rachel exclaimed, clutching her chest.

Quinn shook her head furiously. "I don't. The consistency is absurd and the crust is normally way too dry. And considering they always put too much cinnamon, the texture is usually extremely grainy and I just so happen to dislike eating sand."

Rachel stared at Quinn, her eyes bugging out.

"What?" Quinn blushed.

"You just analyzed pie." Rachel grabbed the blonde's wrist and pulled her to the couch, pushing her down and crashing beside her. Quinn watched as the dress hiked up more, showing a large amount of thigh. "Shush," Rachel murmured when Quinn tried to protest. "You are the most interesting person I have met in twelve hours so you are going to keep talking."

"I'm on the clock," Quinn muttered.

"I messaged Amber when you put the towels away. I told her you'd be awhile."

Well, this news was interesting news to Quinn. "Why would I be awhile?"

"I told her I wanted to apologize to you. Which I do, in which case, I'm sorry for lashing out at you. You were just doing your job."

Quinn sighed and shrugged. "No, I overstepped my boundaries. I shouldn't have said anything."

A silence fell over them. Rachel stood up. "Well, that was sentimental. Is it alright if I change?"

Quinn stood up, too. "I can leave if—"

"No. Sit." Quinn sat. "Good, bellhop." Quinn caught the smirk on Rachel's face and grinned.

So, this woman wasn't all _that _bad. The saying 'you can't judge a book by its cover' really did hold true. Although, Quinn judged her to be an extremely beautiful woman and confirmed she was indeed a lesbian, so the judging was partially accurate.

Rachel came back in, tugging a t-shirt over her head. Quinn got a glimpse of toned abs before the white fabric covered them.

"Can I leave yet?" she asked. This girl was going to be a hazard to her health. Those legs still uncovered, just a set of short gym shorts coming not even halfway down her thighs. A white cotton shirt hugged her body, a black sports bra vaguely coming through.

"No," the actress smirked.

Quinn sighed. "I don't understand why you're keeping me here."

"I like you," Rachel shrugged. "And I get bored easily."

"So, I'm your circus monkey?"

Rachel smirked and stood over her, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt. "I was hoping for a stripper."

Quinn's eyes widened. "I'm sorry… what?"

"Too much? I'll strip for you."

Quinn slapped the fingers away from her shirt. "Are you being serious right now?" This couldn't be happening.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"I'm not g—"

"Yes, you are. You were drooling when I stepped out of the car and you looked like you were going to combust when I walked in here." Quinn blushed as the brunette sat on the table across from her, their knees bumping. "I'll tell you a secret. I totally go gay for attractive women like you. I'm only here for three days so let's have some fun."

Quinn thought. Her lips pursed. Was this really such a good idea? "So, I'm your sex slave?"

"No, of course not!" Rachel exclaimed, resting her hand on Quinn's thigh. "More like… stranger with benefits."

The blonde grinned and held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray. I'm a struggling writer who works at a hotel. I enjoy watching Buffy with a plate of mac and cheese. My cat, Xander, enjoys watching it with Fancy Feast."

Rachel grinned in understanding. "Xander?"

"Don't judge me."

The shorter woman held up her hands. "I'm not. I'm not." She grabbed the other girl's hand firmly. "Hi, I'm Rachel Berry. Actress in Hollywood and harasser of paparazzi. I enjoy watching Buffy with salad and my fish, Dory, likes watching it with fish food."

A grin fell on Quinn's face. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So now we're friends with benefits?"

"Precisely."

Rachel smirked. "Well, in that case…" She leaned over Quinn, capturing the blonde's lips in hers. Her hands walked on either side of Quinn's thighs until she was hovering over her.

The blonde buried her hand in the brown hair. God, this woman was good. She tasted amazing. Like caramel candy drops.

Rachel opened her mouth, allowing Quinn to slip her tongue inside. An overwhelming flavor of caramel hit her. She confirmed it; that was all the actress ate. No wonder she was so skinny.

The brunette climbed onto Quinn's lap, grinding down on her. A moan escaped her mouth and Rachel took the opportunity to plunge her tongue inside her mouth.

Peppermint. A huge wave of mint rushed over her, swarming her senses. It filled her nose, her taste buds. It cooled her skin.

World War III began as their tongues fought for dominance. Caramel vs. mint battle royaled it out, a fight to the death match ensuing. Their owners cheered them on, moans echoing around the room.

Rachel slipped Quinn's shirt off her shoulders, sitting up a little to pull her slacks off. The blonde kicked them off, thanking God that she shaved last night.

The actress moaned as her thighs came in contact with the porter's. She broke their lip contact, ripping Quinn 'sundershirt over her head. Quinn quickly attacked the tanned neck, sucking and biting the warm skin.

"I swear… to God… if you leave a mark…" Rachel uttered between moans.

Quinn smirked and ran her tongue the length of Rachel's neck. "You can just say it was Finn."

"God, no," the actress moaned as the blonde dragged her nails down toned abs. Red lines rose in their wake.

Quinn pulled back and slipped Rachel's shirt over her head. "What? Don't like him?"

"I like you. God, you're going to turn me fully lesbian." Quinn laughed as Rachel pulled back, her eyes black with lust. "Bedroom, now."

Quinn nodded, wrapping her arms around Rachel's back. The brunette wrapped her legs around the taller girl's waist. They stuttered and moaned as they felt the wetness between them.

As they quickly made their way to the bed, Quinn dropped Rachel on to the mattress and gripped the front of the girl's shorts. "You know," she murmured, ripping the article of clothing down those long legs. "It's pretty bad if you're soaked through your shorts."

Rachel pulled Quinn up her body by her neck. "Think of it as a compliment," she muttered, crashing their lips together.

World War IV began. Rachel's tongue slid over Quinn's, curling around it, caressing it. Nimble fingers unhooked the blonde's bar, slipping it off her shoulders before the fingers danced over the sensitive skin, brushing her nipples. A guttural moan escaped Quinn's mouth as her forehead hit Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel's bra was torn over her head and soon enough, underwear was discarded. Quinn pulled Rachel into her lap, the brunette's legs draped over her thighs. She looked up to see deep, brown orbs staring down at her.

"Don't make me wait any longer," the actress begged.

And with that, Quinn plunged two fingers into Rachel. She sucked in a breath as she felt tight walls and slick liquid coat her.

"Fuck," Rachel muttered, resting her forehead against Quinn's. Her fingers dug into the sweaty mess of hair at the nape of the blonde's neck.

Quinn pumped her fingers, slowly at first but gaining a quick rhythm. Rachel's moans chorused with the erratic breathing of Quinn.

The brunette trailed a finger down the blonde's body, starting at her chest, down between the valley of her breasts, circled her belly button before another finger joined the first and she slid them into Quinn's folds. An animalistic noise ripped out of Quinn's throat.

The room filled with panting and breathy moans, with the occasional deep, body-shuddering moan when one of them hit that perfect spot. Rachel came first, biting down on Quinn's shoulder hard enough to draw blood. The realization that she had just fucked a vampire made Quinn come hard seconds later.

She didn't have to go all Buffy on this vampire, did she?

They collapsed back on the bed, tangled up in each other's skin. Rachel ran her finger over the apparent bite marks, wiping a thin line of blood along the pale shoulder. She sighed. "I'm really sorry."

Quinn shook her head. "Don't be. It made me come the hardest I ever have."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Well, if you put it that way…"

Quinn grinned and kissed the girl beside her, slower than before. They continued the lazy kiss, Quinn wrapping an arm around Rachel's tiny waist.

This was definitely a reason to love her job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Starlet**

She was driving with the top down. A 2012 Chevy Camaro. Dark blue, of course. Her hair whipped across her face, getting stuck on her lips or falling over her eyes. She reached up a hand, pushing it away.

Yes, this was the life. Her book had reached #1 on the New York Times Bestsellers list almost instantaneously after it was released. She was loaded for life.

Now if this damn hair would stay in place. And what was that giggling?

Quinn slowly opened her eyes to see beautiful brown orbs staring back at her. Her own hazel eyes flicked over the long lashes, down the bridge of a nose, stopping at those pink lips and white teeth.

"Morning, beautiful," the brunette next to her grinned.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, confirming this sight was not just a dream. "Hi," she murmured, snuggling further into the pillow.

Rachel brushed her fingers over the blonde's cheekbone. "I can't get over how cute you look in the morning."

"I can't get over the fact that you don't look ready for the day as soon as you wake up. You actually look like a human being."

The brunette's eyes narrowed before she blew a puff of air into Quinn's face. "Bitch. I could get you fired for that."

"Technically, I'm not on—" Quinn froze, déjà vu hitting her. "It was you!"

Rachel feigned confusion. "It was me what?"

"During my wonderful dream filled with fame and fortune, you had the audacity to blow air on my face, filling me with a sense of discomfort, like there will always be something bothering me. How dare you."

The brunette blinked a few times. "I'm not quite sure how to respond to that."

A grin filled Quinn's face. "I left you speechless."

"You sure as hell didn't last night."

Quinn looked up quickly, meeting Rachel's eyes. Pure lust reflected in those mahogany irises she had grown to love. She watched as pupils dilated, covering up any hint of color.

"Surely, you must be joking."

"I'm not. And don't call me Shirley."

The blonde let out an exasperated sigh. "How many times did we go at it last night?"

"Too many to count."

"Exactly. Rach, my fingers hurt. I'm pretty sure I sprained one."

Rachel pouted. "Quinn. Quinnie. My beautiful, amazing, lovely, incredible sex slave," she whined, a smile on her face.

Quinn rolled her eyes as she shook her head. "No."

The actress buried her face into the porter's bare shoulder, letting her fingers graze over naked skin. Her legs entangled further with the blonde's until her knee shot up, pushing into Quinn's center. She watched as hazel eyes widened, a smirk across her face. "I think somebody likes that."

"You'll be the death of me, I swear," the other girl muttered, flipping them over. Her elbows rested on either side of Rachel's head. Both women moaned as Quinn lowered her body, resting each inch of her skin on the brunette's.

"Likewise," Rachel murmured, connecting her lips with Quinn's.

/

"I can't believe you leave tomorrow," Quinn muttered, slipping her arms through the straps of her bra. She watched Rachel frown as she pulled up a pair of jean shorts.

"Disappointed?"

"You seem like you are," she pointed out.

A silence filled the room as Quinn pulled her shirt over her head. Warm hands touched her stomach, halting the shirt right below her breasts. Her head popped out, watching Rachel's face curiously.

"I am disappointed," the actress admitted, looking at the floor. Quinn stood there silently, unsure of what to say. Over the past two nights of their escapades, she had seen sexy!Rachel, flirty!Rachel, cuddly!Rachel, turned-on!Rachel. She had never seen shy!Rachel. And while that thought was endearing to her, she knew there was a reason this side was escaping. "I had a great weekend here. Broadway during the day, you at night. I just, I…" she trailed off, fighting to find the right words. "I feel like I hardly know anything about you. And I don't want to remember you as Quinn, the hotel employee who was good with her fingers." She shook her head. "I remember you said you were a writer. Tell me about that."

"Now?" Quinn's voice cracked, either from the emotional speech the actress just gave or the realization that she felt the same way.

"Yeah, sure, now." Rachel grabbed the other girl's hand and pulled her down to the bed. Quinn couldn't help but stare at those bare legs that she knew trembled when she touched them. A heated debate began in her head. Touch them or don't touch them? She'd get some sexy times out of touching them. But she knew Rachel wanted a serious conversation right now.

The brunette kept her hand clenched in the blonde's as Quinn began talking. "I just finished writing a novel."

The actress was shocked. "Finished? Like, a full-length novel?"

Quinn nodded, biting her lip.

Rachel sat up straighter. "Tell me all about it."

"Well, I guess it's kind of a life-story… about me." She took a deep breath. "I grew up in a Catholic home. I was taught to love men. But in high school, my eyes really opened up to women. God, there was this one girl. Her name was Santana and I fell completely in love with her. In my story, the character pursues that but I couldn't even talk to her. My senior year, I met Brittany. We became really good friends. I love her, too. Not with the passion that I loved Santana but I still had feelings for her. And then the torment of shit happened. I was kissing her in my room. Now, mind you, it was our first kiss. My dad came in, and I still remember exactly what he said. "Do you guys want piz—" and then silence. He kicked me out immediately. I stayed with Brittany until I moved here. We still keep in touch from time to time. Funny thing, she's going out with Santana." Quinn looked up, waiting for a reply. But Rachel could only stare at her in astonishment. "What?" the blonde asked, feeling overly self-conscious.

"You're so brave," Rachel murmured, scooting closer to the writer.

Quinn blushed. "How?"

"You overcame so many obstacles. I want to read this story."

"You leave tomorrow," Quinn pointed out. Her mind told her not to let the actress. This was her autobiography. Nobody had read this except Amber, who had really only read snippets.

And yet, her heart told her yes, let her read it, let her know all about you.

Rachel grabbed her hand again, lacing their fingers. "Let's go out to eat tonight."

Dinner. As in, a dinner date?

As if she spoke out loud, Rachel rolled her eyes and nodded. "As a date, yes."

A grin spread across the blonde's face. "Where to?"

"I was hoping you'd pick. You know the city better than I do."

Restaurants flashed through Quinn's mind. Fancy, casual. As the green awning with fancy script entered her mind, she smiled. "Dress fancy. I'll pick you up at eight."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," the blonde grinned.

/

Six hours.

She had six hours to get ready.

First things first, put her novel aside. As she located the one-inch binder, she ran her fingers over the cover. Someone was actually going to read this. Her stomach did a little flip but she forced a smile on her face.

How did she expect her work to get published if she only let people with a biased opinion—ie: friends, family… well okay, her sister occasionally—read it? Maybe Rachel will give her an honest opinion.

A soft meow sounded from the bedroom before a thump and the patter of tiny feet came into the kitchen.

"Oh, thank God," Quinn sighed, scooping Xander up in her arms. "I need fashion advice and fast." He stared pointedly at his food bowl, which of course, was empty. Quinn rolled her eyes. "Fine."

After she fed him, she jumped in the shower, taking a full hour to do everything possible to look good tonight.

And then the panic set in.

"What to wear, what to wear…" she muttered, clothes flying out of her closet. She picked up her phone, scrolling to the desired name and hitting send.

"Well, hey there, stranger."

"Amber, thank God, I need your help."

"Thanks, Quinn. I'm doing fine. I know, it is sad that we haven't seen each other all weekend. Some of us don't have celebrities convincing our bosses to let us off work."

Quinn felt instantly guilty. It was true; she had been ignoring the rest of the world while buried under silk sheets, a naked Rachel Berry cuddled up next to her. She spent her days writing and her nights hovering over the actress, her mouth attached to skin.

"I was kidding."

"No, you weren't. And I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. You're my best friend and I got so caught up—"

"Quinn, babe. It's fine. I understand." The blonde heard a soft chuckle and relaxed. "What can I do for you, my dear?"

"Okay, well," she sighed. "I have a date with Rachel tonight. Yes, a real date," she snapped when Amber made a noise to interrupt.

"Are you sure it's not a date… in bed?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at her friend's suggestive tone. "Believe me, we've had plenty of dates in bed. Anyway… I have a real date. I'm taking her to Florentino's. What am I supposed to wear?"

Amber waited a beat. "The blue dress. The one with the plunging neckline."

The blonde jumped up, fishing the garment out of her closet within seconds. She held it out in front of her, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. "I don't know… isn't it a little too risqué?"

"It's perfect. The neckline is sexy yet sophisticated while the shortness of it really shows off your ass. Also, the semi-see-throughness of it adds a mysterious factor… if that makes sense."

"It doesn't."

"Yeah, well, you look hot in it. Wear it."

Quinn turned to the mirror, holding the dress in front of her half-naked body. She grinned. "You're the best."

"I know. Have fun. Do something I would do… if I swung that way."

The writer laughed as she hung up. She spun around, hugging the dress to her body. "This is going to be amazing," she spoke to Xander.

He tilted his head, debating whether to attack the dress that was glimmering in the light or not. Another day…

/

Waiting was always impossible for Quinn. She tended to be early for everything, which meant she had to wait even longer. Her palms were sweating as she clutched the binder.

"Someone looks beautiful."

Quinn turned around and felt warmth rush to every part of her body. There she was. The girl of the hour. As Quinn's eyes grazed over the actress' breasts, she corrected herself. _Woman _of the hour.

"You're looking pretty spectacular yourself," she smiled.

Rachel was wearing a form-fitting red dress, also short, and barely covering any skin. Quinn's eyes raked down her curves, her mouth watering.

Fuck dinner. They need to get a room before she rips that dress off right then and there.

"Ready to go?" Rachel asked, breaking Quinn's thought process.

She nodded. "Whenever you are."

The brunette grabbed the blonde's hand, entwining their fingers. They walked outside, taking in a breath of the night's cool air.

"Where's the car?" Rachel asked, coming to a stop.

Quinn looked at her, amused. "There is no car."

"How are we—"

"We're walking." At her baffled expression, Quinn spoke again. "Surely, you can walk a couple of blocks."

"Not in these heels!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing to her six-inch Stilettos.

"You've walked the red carpet in those!"

"The red carpet is like, twenty feet. Not twenty blocks!"

"I said a few blocks. If you fall over, I'll just have to majestically sweep you up in my arms and carry you," she smirked.

The actress raised an eyebrow but consented. "Fine."

A shit-eating grin erupted on Quinn's face as she pulled her favorite brunette along.

/

"They have vegetarian meals here, right?"

"You really think I'd take you to a place that had no vegetarian substitutes?" Quinn rolled her eyes. "Have a little faith in me."

"Name, please," the host asked, pen poised in hand.

"Fabray, reservation for two."

The hostess seated them quickly after that, bringing their drink orders within minutes. Someone obviously recognized the actress.

"I have a question for you," the brunette asked, taking a sip of her chardonnay.

The blonde felt her stomach flip. Why did she automatically assume the worst? She looked into the eyes of the woman across from her, waiting.

"I know we started this whole venture as casual but I've grown some strong feelings for you," she admitted with an air of nonchalance. "I have this strong, predatory need to not let you out of my sight."

Quinn's heart was soaring. Down the valley of her stomach and over the hair on her arms. It circled her neck with warmth before passing her ear, whispering sweet nothings.

"I feel the same way," she stuttered.

Brown eyes sparkled before Rachel spoke again. "Is that your novel?" she asked, gesturing to the binder Quinn had set next to her on the table.

The writer nodded. "Yeah, just a rough copy but this is it." She handed it to Rachel. "I don't expect you to read it all here so take it with you."

"You're giving this to me?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I have a copy on my computer, anyway."

Rachel grasped her hand across the table, squeezing it. "Thank you."

Their food arrived, a pasta dish for Rachel and chicken parmesan for Quinn. A comfortable silence fell over them as they dug in.

"I don't want to leave tomorrow," the brunette bluntly stated.

Hazel eyes met brown. "I don't want you to, either."

"What are we?"

"Two friends that are attracted to one another but knowing a relationship is impossible," the blonde muttered, looking at her plate.

Rachel shook her head. "It's not impossible."

"You leave tomorrow. We'll be 3,000 miles apart."

The actress slapped her hand on the table dramatically, causing the china to clink together. A few heads turned in their direction but the brunette ignored them. "I don't understand why you're not willing to try."

"I want to," she replied softly. "But I don't want to hold you back."

Images of Rachel meeting someone new filled her mind. A guest star on her show, a costar of some new movie. But she wouldn't be able to pursue them because some nobody writer trapped in a hotel would be in the back of her mind.

Quinn watched as the other woman's eyes spoke so much, but her lips said so little. She watched as the other woman called for the check. She watched as a hand stretched to hers. She felt fingers link through her own as the cool air hit her once again.

The walk back was quiet, both women deep in thought. They only spoke through their hands, letting their fingers caress and embrace the other's skin.

As the elevator dinged, Quinn felt lost. What did she do now? Kiss the actress goodbye? Go up to her room? Convince her to stay?

As if Rachel read her mind, she tilted her head at the blonde. "Come up with me?"

The writer found herself nodding, stepping into the elevator. Tension rose immediately as the doors shut. Quinn found herself thanking God that it was so late and that nobody else was in the tiny cubicle.

Her back hit the cool, mirrored wall, sending shivers throughout her entire body before a pair of soft lips attached to hers, sending the chill away. She found herself moving her lips automatically, fighting to get the upper hand. Pushing Rachel back against the opposite wall, Quinn raked her fingers down the smaller girl's sides, catching fabric with her nails. The brunette wrapped her arms around the blonde's neck, fingers dipping down and capturing the zipper of her dress. Slowly, she started tugging it down.

The writer grasped the actress' wrists, pinning them above her head as she pulled back to look at her incredulously. "Rachel," she gasped.

Rachel smirked and licked her lips seductively, eye shining. Quinn felt her insides clench. "Yes?" the brunette murmured.

As the blonde opened her mouth, the elevator dinged and she felt herself being pulled down the hall and shoved into a room. She didn't even know how Rachel opened her door so fast.

Hands clutched her body, running down her hips and sliding over her exposed thighs. Those lips she grew to love met hers again in a fiery battle as she felt her dress fall from her shoulder and bunch at her feet. She kicked her shoes off, shrinking a couple of inches shorter than the girl currently attacking her collarbone.

Quinn released Rachel from the confines of her dress, letting her kick off her own heels before lifting her up. The brunette's legs wrapped around the taller girl's waist as they began the slow journey to the bed.

They fell on the bed, the brunette instantly spreading her legs as the blonde fell in between them. Quinn's lips attached to Rachel's bare shoulder as her teeth grazed the skin, her tongue soothing the marks.

"Quinn," the actress mumbled, throwing her head back, hands grasping blonde hair.

"Hm?" Lips moved from the shoulder to the pulse point of the other woman's neck.

"Just—" Rachel tried to speak but broke off as a moan escaped her mouth. She lifted her hips up, moving them against Quinn's stomach. "Please."

The blonde understood instantly. Swinging her leg over Rachel's thigh, she scooted up her body. As she grinded down on the brunette, a duet of moans filled the room. Quinn buried her face in the actress' neck, her arm hugging a head of brown hair.

The brunette's mouth fell open in a low moan as the writer began thrusting against her. The smaller woman's hands disentangled from the blonde's hair, running down the lithe body before cupping the back of her thighs. She lifted her hips up, meeting Quinn's thrusts perfectly.

As their centers rubbed against one another's, both girls felt the pleasurable sensation filling their abdomen. Rachel began thrusting faster, hooking her left leg over Quinn's ass. The new position deepened the taller girl's thrusts and soon enough, they both tumbled over the cliff of ecstasy, falling far into a sea of pleasure.

"We didn't even get naked," Rachel muttered breathlessly, running her fingers over the smooth skin of the girl on top of her.

Quinn grinned teasingly, looking into the brunette's eyes. "Someone was in too much of a rush."

"How dare you blame me!"

"Well, it was your fault. I was going to take my time, pleasure every inch of your body with my tongue, create goosebumps on your skin with my fingers, delve them into your nether regions," she murmured seductively. A groan erupted from Rachel's mouth as her hips lifted automatically, grinding against Quinn's. The writer closed her eyes before grinning. "Someone seems eager again."

"Damn you for being so descriptive."

"What can I say? I'm a writer."

The actress hooked both her legs around Quinn, flipping them over. Brown hair tickled the blonde's skin as Rachel leaned in close to her. "I bet I can make the writer at a loss for words." She pulled back, unhooking her bra. "And this time, no clothes."

/

Light seeped in from the slit in the curtain, hitting the bed. Quinn ran her fingers over Rachel's skin, tracing the patches of sunlight on her back. She sighed.

Today was the day. The actress was heading back to Hollywood, forcing Quinn to face reality instead of living in this little dream world. She buried her face further into the pillow. Maybe time would freeze right now.

A beautiful groan escaped the brunette's mouth as she rolled over, flinging her body over Quinn's. The blonde smiled and kissed her forehead. She watched as Rachel's eyes fluttered open and a smile stretched across her face. "Morning."

Rachel lost the smile on her face, shaking her head and burying her face in the crook of Quinn's neck. "Not a good morning," she mumbled.

The blonde felt her heart ache. While she wasn't one for cliché romance moments, she honestly thought her heart was breaking. Finally, she understood sappy romance novels.

"I'm giving you my number and I want yours," the brunette continued.

Quinn felt her head nodding.

"I can't promise to call or text every day—"

"I know."

"—since I get so busy and I honestly barely look at my phone as it is—"

"I understand."

"—like I don't even know where it is right now which is bad because I'm leaving soon and I'll get in some deep shit if I don't have it and—"

Quinn tilted her head slightly, softly kissing Rachel. The actress shut up immediately, letting her lips wrap around the blonde's bottom one. Quinn pulled back slowly, resting her forehead against the other woman's. "Let's just enjoy this moment for a little while."

The brunette nodded, cuddling further into the tall girl as her arm wrapped around a slim waist and her leg hitched over a toned thigh.

The blonde pressed a kiss into brown hair, hoping to God time would stop.

/

Ten days.

It had been ten days since Rachel Berry left. Quinn was positive that the woman took her heart and soul with her.

She was miserable.

Amber noticed, Sam noticed, Jake noticed. Even her boss, Henry, noticed and he wasn't so in tuned when it came to people's emotions.

The blonde constantly found herself staring at her contact list, finger hovering over _Rachel Berry_ with the gold star next to it. When she asked the actress about the emoticon, Rachel was quick to explain.

"In high school, I always knew I would make it big someday. Although, I thought I was going to be a star on Broadway but Hollywood is just as good. The gold star is my signature. I could have just put the star and you would have known who it was."

Each time her fingers hovered over the name, she stopped herself. She had already texted the brunette once, later after she left, wishing her a safe flight and to hope she got home quickly.

Nothing.

Two days later, Quinn sent another text. _Seems different here without you. Not sure I like it._

She got the same response. Nothing.

That was when she gave up. She didn't want to seem needy. Rachel said she wanted more but she couldn't even text her back. She couldn't be _that_ busy where she couldn't take two seconds to send a _Miss you! _Or _Seems different here, too._

Maybe the blonde's expectations were too high.

"Why don't you just call her?" Jake suggested, leaning on the counter across from the girls.

Quinn looked up, annoyance written on her face. "If she can't answer a text, I doubt that she'll answer a call."

Amber spoke up from beside Quinn. "It's true. Doesn't seem logical to me."

"Then maybe I just have no idea. Why would she want to be in a relationship with you but not text you back?"

"Why would Sam be the only one working while everyone else is lounging around, doing nothing?" Sam huffed, placing a heavy trunk on the ground. "There you are, Ms. Carmichael," he directed toward the old woman ambling towards them.

"But really, I think you could use the exercise, bud," Jake grinned, slapping the other boy's arm.

Sam glared at him, staying silent.

"You've always had such toned arms, Jake," Ms. Carmichael smiled, giving his left bicep a squeeze.

"Oh, Ms. Carmichael, you slay me," Jake laughed, picking up her suitcase.

"Show her to the usual room, Jake," Amber said, clicking a few times on the mouse. She handed him a key. "Enjoy your stay, Ms. Carmichael."

"You guys are always so good to me," the older woman mumbled, taking Jake's extended elbow. He smiled as he led her away.

"Sam, babe, you need a haircut," Amber murmured, leaning across the counter and fingering his blonde locks.

"What? You don't like—"

Quinn's signature ringtone sounded. She pulled her phone out and froze as she saw the name on the screen. The ever-familiar name and that damn gold star. Her heart was beating in her ears and her fingers felt numb. She's been waiting for this for ten fucking days. A lifetime.

Quickly sliding her finger across the screen, she answered it. "Hello?"

"Quinn?"

No, fucking Katniss Everdeen. Who else? "Yeah?"

"It's Rachel. Look, I don't know if you remember—"

"Rachel? Hm, I think I remember a Rachel. She turned into a vampire when I had sex with her. Pretty hot if I do say so myself." Quinn looked up to see Amber and Sam staring at her like she had fifteen heads. A blush hit her cheeks as she walked away. Hearing a soft chuckle on the other end of the phone, she continued. "Rachel, how could I forget you?"

"Good point. Sorry for not getting back to you right away."

"It's fine," the blonde lied.

"I was actually calling for a specific reason other than just hearing your beautiful voice." Quinn laughed, shaking her head. "And that laugh. Does wonders to me. Anyway, the reason I didn't get back to you right away… I was selling something."

The writer's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Selling what?"

"Your novel."

Quinn felt her stomach twist as she made a gasping noise. "What?"

"I have a friend who works for Random House. They have a small office here and I showed him your work. He pitched it to the head honcho and—if you'd like—they want to discuss it with you."

Her head spun. Fog swarmed her senses. "Holy shit."

"I know it's a lot and I know I shouldn't have done that without your permission but I read it on the plane and, Jesus Quinn, it was phenomenal. I completely loved it. I connected to your character so easily."

"Thank you," the blonde murmured softly.

"So, here's what I was thinking. Fly out for a couple days—I'll pay for your ticket—and meet with these guys. You can stay with me."

With me. With her. With Rachel.

"You mean I'm going to have to wake up next to you looking average in the morning?" Quinn teased.

A low growl erupted. "Fuck you."

"When and where?"

"Soon and my bed."

Images filled Quinn's mind. Her blood was boiling as it rushed through her body. "Jesus, Rach. Why don't you just start having phone sex, huh?"

"If you insist. Imagine me throwing you a bed, slowly sliding your underwear off with my teeth. I'd show your pussy special attention with my tongue and lips before slamming my fing—"

"STOP. Dear God, I'm at work. Stop or I'll hang up." A cackle echoed in Quinn's ear. She shook her head. "You're impossible."

"You love me."

"Maybe," she smiled.

/

God, it was hot. Quinn slipped her jacket off, hooking it over two fingers.

"Stripping in the airport? Classy, Fabray."

The blonde turned around, grinning. "Thought I could make a name for myself."

"Every paparazzi's wet dream," Rachel laughed, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. She was tanner.

Quinn dropped her bag and rushed into warm arms, burying her face into brown hair. She had missed this. God, had she missed this.

The actress grasped the writer's face in her hands, bringing their lips together for a short but passionate kiss.

"I missed you," Quinn murmured.

Rachel smiled. "I missed you, too. Ready to check out your new home?"

Nothing sounded better to the blonde as she laced her fingers with the brunette's, letting her lead them away.

* * *

**A/N: **This is the second chapter. And probably the last. Hope you guys enjoyed it!


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